Healing Touch
by Ella-elbereth
Summary: A few years before the fellowship, Legolas was taken and tortured brutally at the hands of men. At the Council of Elrond, Aragorn sees his dear friend once more, but Legolas is no longer the elf he knew. Can Aragorn help him heal? And most importantly, ca
1. Chapter 1

Rated: PG-13 (just to be safe)

Disclaimer: Everything/one that is familiar to you in this story belongs to Tolkien, Peter Jackson, and New Line Cinema. I don't own it and I don't make any claims.

Summary: A few years before the fellowship, Legolas was taken and tortured brutally at the hands of men. At the Council of Elrond, Aragorn sees his dear friend once more, but Legolas is no longer the elf he knew. Can Aragorn help him heal? And most importantly, can he make Legolas trust him again? Aragorn POV

Please note that this is a completely non-slash story. There are intimate moments between the characters and I might on occasion use the word 'love', but it is strictly brotherly friendship. I would have named the story "The Touch of a Friend" to clarify that better, but the title was already taken. So for those who enjoy slash, I'm sorry but this is not that kind of story, and for those who are like me and don't like it, you can relax and stop expecting the unexpected.

The journey to Rivendell was neither easy nor short, but with Frodo in Arwen's hands and the Wraiths without their steeds, the haste has somewhat lessened. My father sent word to me that Frodo was no longer in mortal danger and the second I told the hobbits they let their worried features fall and it was then that I became acquainted with the lightheartedness of the race. I watched with amusement the awe on their faces as soon as we entered through the gates of Rivendell. Sam, as a loyal friend, quickly overcame this and demanded that he be taken to Frodo. I couldn't help but smile at his devotion to his master and I nodded to the Elves that greeted us to take him to the healing ward. While Merry and Pippin went off in excitement to explore, I allowed myself a brief respite. Most likely my father- Lord Elrond- will have something planned for the days to follow concerning the Ring, but for now, while Frodo regained his strength, I would take comfort in this sanctuary where I was raised. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes, savoring the familiar feel of home and for a few minutes I forgot the peril that brought me here in the first place.

Finally opening my eyes, I decided to walk around the gardens. Nothing seemed to change since I last left; the elves still wandered about their realm in peace, despite the darkness of Mordor that was now spreading over Middle-earth. I greeted each of them that passed me and whom I passed. Then suddenly in the distance I saw a face that I did not expect see but nonetheless joy filled my heart. Smiling, I raised my hand in welcome and treaded over to a place by the trees where I saw the person of my engrossment talking to my brothers.

"Legolas!" I called to my friend. I had not seen him for over twenty years. When Gandalf and I captured Gollum, we brought him to Legolas' home in Mirkwood, but when I asked about him I was told that he was away from the palace and unfortunately I was in too much of a haste to wait for his arrival.

Legolas turned smiling towards the direction from which he heard his name, but when he saw me his smile disappeared and he showed a surprising look of anger and fear. However I disregarded it and came up to him laughing with open arms.

"Mae govannen, Legolas! Oh, mellon nin, it sure is good to see you again!"

I made a motion to embrace him, but he quickly moved back, away from me. He placed his right arm across his chest and bowed slightly in an elvish greeting that was usually done between attendants or even strangers; never between close friends.

"Greetings, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Captain of the Dunadain," he said firmly, "indeed, it has been long."

I cocked my head in confusion at his sudden gesture. Such formality has not been used between us since the day we met. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged uneasy glances that I did not miss and moved protectively in front of Legolas.

"It is good to see you again, brother," said Elrohir.

"Indeed," Elladan replied and he walked up to me, turning me away from the other two and leading me in the direction of the house. "Come, we have much to discuss. Father has been waiting for you and I'm sure you want to see Frodo."

Despite my protest, Elladan managed to lead me away and when I turned my head in Legolas' direction, he looked away from me. I did not see him again for the rest of the day.

Tbc…

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but I'm having terrible gaps between scenes and I knew that if I don't post now then there won't be any motivation to write those gaps faster. Please review.

Ella


	2. Chapter 2

**Yes, I'm back with an update. Wow, I think this is a record for me. I've never updated in less than two months and now it's only been what? Like, two weeks? Give me some cred. :D**

**Enjoy! This chapter is a little longer than the last one.**

* * *

The room that had been prepared for me was the same one in which I had stayed during my time in Rivendell; for that I was glad. Night had fallen and many retired for the night, as Elrond's great council concerning the ring was to be held on the morrow. The silence of Imladris was ironically most welcoming. After bathing myself and changing into clean clothes, I stepped outside onto the balcony in my room that led out into the comely garden. The sturdy rails supported me as I leaned tiredly against them, looking out into the distance.

The moon shone fully and brightly and it is perhaps because of it that I was able to spot the shadow in the garden. Immediately, I recognized it and quietly walked down the stairs of the balcony. My elvish skills I see have not yet abandoned me, for even under the direct light of the moon I was able to conceal myself in the darkness- element of surprise being on my side. I watched as the effigy of my intent walked towards my direction- entirely unaware of my presence- and sat on the bench beneath the magnolia tree behind which I stood obscured from view. Once he settled, I silently walked out from behind my hiding place, making my way towards him.

But as I drew closer, he jumped up from his sitting position in a speed I did not know was possible, and in a matter of seconds a gleaming blade was pressed against my throat, reflecting in it the pale light of the moon. I looked up into Legolas' eyes that were squinted in anger, raising my hands up as a sign of peace. Never had either one raised an arm against the other. Slowly, his features softened and he brought his dagger down, sighing before re-sheathing it. Neither one of us uttered a single word, and Legolas turned away, not wanting to meet my gaze either because of shame or something much more complicated. Finally, I could not take the silence.

"You do not sleep," I said to him, deciding that it was best if I did not speak of what just happened.

"I'm not tired," he responded dryly.

I cocked my head a little in annoyance and put my hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face me. He hissed as if in pain, wincing beneath my touch and quickly I withdrew.

"What has happened to you, Legolas?" I asked in stern tone that demanded an answer. I have never seen him like this before- so distant, so emotionless.

Legolas turned away again. "I do not wish to speak of it."

"Well you're going to have to!" I exclaimed, a little more harshly than I wanted to. When he still didn't say anything I softened my tone. "Legolas, please, my friend. It burns my heart to see you like this. I know that it has been twenty years since we have last seen one another, but I did not think that time can breach a friendship. If it is something I have done, then please…"

"It's not that, Aragorn," he interrupted.

"What then?" I asked desperately, trying to read his thoughts as we have often done with one another.

He sighed and finally turned to face me. "A few years ago, I was scouting woods in the north. It was getting late and I needed to make camp. I found a fair spot and was about to settle down when I saw a light from a fire in the distance. As I drew closer to the spot, I saw about twelve men gathered around a fire. They seemed like honorable men, rustic to the look, but nevertheless kind. Or so I thought. I walked into their camp to greet them, completely abandoning all sense of circumspection. They in turn welcomed me to stay at their camp and so I did. I dined with them and then retired for the night. I did not understand why I was so wearied, for elves do not tire easily, and yet I didn't really care. Later on I found out it was because a heavy drug was put into my drink, strong enough to work even on an elf.

"When I woke up it was already midday and I realized that I was bound hand and foot. I was in a wagon and the constant bumping made my head hurt incredibly. I was finally brought to some kind of dwelling- where they must have lived. Each day from then one they would beat, starve, and torment me. I was constantly drugged by force so there was nothing I could do to defend myself. They thought I would become dependent on whatever herb it was that they were giving me, but fortunately Valar had shielded the elves away from such addictions. Nevertheless those six years were the longest years of my life."

I listened to him in horror. Six years? That was longer then any living creature, even an elf, can endure under such torture. What he said made me so angry. I wanted nothing more then to have those people in front of me right now so that I may smother the life out of them with my bare hands for what they did to my friend.

"What was it they wanted from you?" I asked.

"Entertainment," he spat out. "Every night I would be brought in front of their leader as he dined and he would watch in amusement my helplessness as they beat me for hours straight, not tiring or getting bored. They used instruments beyond my knowledge on me. About six months ago, soldiers from Mirkwood that were scouting for me finally found me and helped me escape from that horrid place. I was brought to Rivendell for healing and here I have been ever since."

"Who were they?"

But Legolas shook his head. "I will speak no further of this."

"Legolas…" I protested, but he raised his hand to silence me.

"No, Aragorn. I will tell you no more. If you are truly my friend then you will leave me alone and not question me."

Slowly and reluctantly I nodded. Despite my deep concern for him, I understood that my requesting of him telling me more would be no use. He would only retire further away. When Legolas received my answer, he faintly smiled in gratitude and left in the direction of the House. I too went back to my room. I will leave him alone for now.

Morning came too swiftly for my liking. Erestor came to wake me up and I prepared myself for the council that was to be held in the court outside. Many had attended, some of which I knew and others who were new to me. Frodo had fully recovered and was sitting by Gandalf. Legolas was there as well and once Elrond began to speak, he locked his eyes with mine for a second before averting his attention to the elf lord. In the end, it was decided that Frodo would take the ring to Mordor to destroy it. Eight would go with him: Gandalf, the three hobbits, a dwarf named Gimli, a man of Gondor Boromir, Legolas, and I. I was not surprised that Legolas volunteered to go, for he needed something to avert him from his ordeal. But the fact that besides me there would also be another man, worried me. I did not know how Legolas would take to this, but apparantely he was more concerned with the presence of a dwarf.

We headed out South under the lead of Gandalf in the direction of the mountains. Several times we had stopped to rest on our journey, and each time I would try to speak with Legolas. But he would always find ways to avoid me and spoke only when necessary. Once when I was trying to find him, I saw him sitting on a rock by Boromir, involving himself in an engaging conversation with the man. This little detailed surprised, for he seemed calm around the man and much less tense than he was around me.

Now we were once again regaining strength. I was sitting down, smoking a pipe and watching as Boromir was teaching Merry and Pippin to spar. It was quite an amusing sight.

"Move your feet," I told Pippin and the little hobbit obeyed. To my surprise the halflings weren't half-bad with the sword.

Suddenly, I noticed that Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli- who were standing a few meters away from us- were looking to the horizon with worried looks on their faces.

"What is that?" asked Sam.

"Nothing, it's just a wisp of clouds," Gimli replied, but unfortunately it was not a mere wisp of clouds. It was something far more perilous.

"It's moving fast," said Boromir beside me, stepping out protectively in front of the hobbits, "against the wind."

All of a sudden Legolas yelled out what I could not, confirming my suspicion. "Crebain from Dunland!"

"Hide!" I screamed out to my companions and quickly moved to gather as many of our things as I could. If those foul crows should spot us, we would be in peril.

My companions and I quickly hid ourselves beneath bushes and behind rocks until the birds passed us by, but I knew that we had been spotted.

"Spies of Saruman," said Gandalf getting up from his hiding place. "Our passage south has been watched. We must take the paths of Caradhras."

At once, we all looked to the snowy mountain. A lump formed in my throat, for those paths screamed of danger.

"No!" protested Boromir. "It is folly to go up that mountain. We will never make it out alive."

"What do you suggest we do then, son of Gondor?" said Gandalf in an angry tone.

"We can go through the Gap of Rohan," replied the man, "and take the west road to my city."

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," I objected. We could not risk Saruman detecting us again. Besides, the last place the Ring would be safe is in the land of Men. In their hands it would be more dangerous than in the hands of Sauron himself.

Suddenly Gimli spoke out, "If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

I looked to Gandalf for an answer. What Gimli suggested was perhaps the most rational decision.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," answered the wizard after a few moments of pondering and battling the demons within himself that I knew still existed. Gandalf was the most fearless person I have ever met, but Moria was the one place that frightened him. Nevertheless, a decision was made. We were to go through Moria.

Tbc…

**Yeah, I know I cut out the Caradhras seen. I have no idea why, though. It just came like that. Maybe I was just too lazy. Anyway, please review. Your comments mean a lot.**

**Ella**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, just to remind you of an author note in chapter 1: THIS IS NOT A SLASH STORY. I just wanted to make that little thing clear.**

**Now on with the story.**

* * *

Traveling in place of incessant darkness, it was hard to tell if night had fallen or if it was still day; perhaps we even walked all though the night and it was already dawn. Either way, the hobbits needed rest, and despite their arrogant resistance, Boromir and Gimli were wearied as well. We let ourselves settle in a large sector beneath the great stairs that led to the City of Dwarrowdelf. The day was peaceful and we did not encounter any signs of enemies, but nevertheless, my heart screamed to me a warning of danger. We were being followed, yet somehow my eyes failed to see by who or what. I was certain that Gandalf and Legolas felt it as well, but they did not utter a word as to not ail the others. Though the air was frigid, we could not risk alerting the enemy to our presence with a fire, so we relied on cloaks for warm and on Gandalf's staff for light.

The hobbits- after having their evening supper- fell into a deep slumber, and Boromir and Gimli were long before they joined them. Their snores were most welcoming, though I must admit I was slightly worried that they may bring out to light whatever enemy was tracking us. Gandalf, too, after pensively pondering over hidden thoughts, succumbed to weariness. Legolas took watch for this night, straying a good distance away from the group to have a better view. I lay with my eyes open, watching him leave, and remembered with woe the look of fear and distrust in his eyes whenever I approached him. I knew there was more to his fear of me than me being a Man, for I have seen on more than one occasion his interaction with Boromir. He never recoiled from him and neither did he flinch from casual contact as he did with me. I must say that I could not even suppress a sense of jealousy, as I have known and loved Legolas for well over fifty years, and yet I highly doubt that anyone in the fellowship, save for Gandalf, knows of the great bond of friendship Legolas and I once shared. He tries to avoid me when he can and talks only when he must.

During our journey, he remained at the very back of the company, while I walked up front with Gandalf. If by occasion I would try to stray in his direction so that we may talk, he would swiftly run to the top of a hill or rock and peer out into the distance, as if scanning the clearing, but I knew that he was eluding me. We have not discussed the events he faced at the hands of men since Rivendell, and even then he did divulge much. I know neither who these men were nor exactly what they did to my friend, but I know that I cannot let our kinship break like this. Slowly, as to not wake my sleeping companions, I rose up from my bedroll and quietly made my way over to Legolas. Once I was far enough from the others, I made sure to make my steps more distinct, at least to be picked up by the elf's ears. The last thing I needed was for him to be startled by me, although through all the years I have spend among elves, the element of surprise has never been a weapon against them.

He did not turn around to face me, but I knew that he acknowledged my presence by the way his body visibly tensed and the way his knuckles turned white from gripping his bow as I drew near. To see this was probably more painful to me than if a spear had penetrated my flesh and found its sheath within my heart. Nevertheless I kept a straight face and came to stand by his side.

"Has the night been quiet?" I asked, not wanting to bring up the subject right away.

"Aye," he answered, still not facing me but staring out into the distance, "it has. And yet there is a presence of evil that follows us through this accursed place."

I sighed, hoping that he felt the same effigy as I and it was not me that drew those feelings. "Indeed, I too feel it."

After I uttered those words, an extremely uncomfortable silence fell between us- something that has not happened since the day we met, and even then the tension was much less than it was now. I looked at him and was greeted with a profile of a stone-cold face, emotionless, and I couldn't help but feel annoyance at his indifference, as if we were strangers who did not share a past together. Not caring about his reaction, I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Legolas-" I began, but at the contact he abruptly jumped back and his hand instinctively went to his quiver.

We simply stared at on another and within a few moments he regained his senses, dropping his hand to his side.

"Forgive me, Aragorn," he said sadly. It was in this moment that he had dropped down his barriers and I saw for the first time his true pain. I moved towards him in an attempt to lift his head up, but he took a step back away from me and raised his hands up. "Please, Aragorn. Do not touch me."

His plea was so desolate it made me angry, not with him, but with the men who did this. I was glad that we were a safe distance away from the rest of the company and I knew that Legolas was glad as well.

"Tell me, Legolas, who were these men I resemble so much that you recoil from my presence?" I asked. I did not expect the question to come out as bitterly as it did. It was more of a command than it was a question, I suppose. Legolas was silent for a while, but a gave him a signal that indicated that I was not going to drop the matter. For the first time throughout the journey, he brought he gaze up to meet mine.

He struggled for a while, as if searching within himself for the answer.

"They were Dunadain rangers from the North."

I must admit, this I did not expect. I thought he would say men of Minas Tirith or of Bree, but at this I froze. It made no sense to me. My people were of Numenorian blood- of elven blood. Even after the alliance between Man and Elves was broken, the Dunadain remained allies of those of the elven race. Legolas watched the confusion play out on my face and he seemed to read my mind. After the years we spent together, that was not unusual.

"That is what I though at first, when I traveled by their camp," he told me. "I never had trust in Men, but after I met you that all changed and I saw them as my own kin."

I was filled with a sense of guilt at his words; that I was the one who made him abandon his feeling of caution and vigilance. During that time I was not with the rangers; my mother died in that period and I went on my journeys with Gandalf. Six years. Six long years he suffered at the hands of my kinsmen, and I was not there.

"But it was not I," I told him desperately. "You know that I would never raise a hand against you."

"That's what I keep trying to tell myself. But every time you draw near I expect you to strike me. I try convincing myself that you are my friend, but my body responds to you like an enemy. For if I trusted them and I was betrayed then-"

He stopped speaking, but I knew what was going through his mind and so I finished the sentence for him.

"….Then how can you be sure that your trust in me was not misplaced as it was in them. How can you be sure that I will not plunge my dagger into your back."

Sadly he nodded in confirmation and I felt my heart harden. I looked at him with eyes that held no emotion and said to him,

"Do you wish to trust me again?"

He cocked his head a little as if he either did not understand my question or he was surprised at my sudden change in voice and manner.

"Aye," he said uneasily.

I averted myself away from him and walked over to the stone wall that stood just a few meters from us. I looked back at him with cold eyes, not knowing how I was able to wear this mask of cruelty when deep inside I wanted nothing more than collapsing beneath his feet in helplessness.

"Come to me," I commanded him in a harsh, stern voice which drew both horror and confusion from him that he tried to suppress.

Legolas did not understand what it was I had intended for him, but I expect nothing less and I didn't even ask for him to relinquish his fear of me just yet. All I needed was his obedience. Then, perhaps, I could bring back the friendship of fifty-six years that almost rend in much less than half the time. Surprisingly, I got my wish when he yielded and began to walk towards me. However, he stopped within a little more than an arm's length away from me.

"Closer," I told him and with some reluctance he took three more steps in my direction.

Slowly, I brought my hands up to the belt straps that fastened his quiver to him. His body visibly tensed and his eyes followed the motion of my hands as I undid the quiver and put it off to side. I made a motion for him to sit down, and once he did I positioned myself behind him so that his back was against my chest and mine was to the wall.

He didn't tear his gaze away from me, watching with caution my every more. I knew that I could not do anything with his eyes following me, so I reached into my pocket and removed a cloth that I quickly placed over his eyes. Immediately, he was filled with panic and he tried to get up, but I proved to be stronger as I wrapped my left arm around his shoulders and pressed him tightly against me. His body was as tense as a bowstring, and I knew that if I let him loose the arrow would fly.

"No, Aragorn, _saes, _please!" he begged me. "They kept me blindfolded while they beat me."

He tried to bring his hands up to remove the blindfold, but I held him still.

"Do not make me bind your hands as well, Legolas," I warned him. "You always said that my hands were that of a healer. If you don't trust me, trust them. Trust that they will never hurt you."

"I cannot," I heard him whisper in a quavering voice. "Please, do not make me go through it again."

Any other time I would have given in and let him go, for there's was nothing more painful than knowing that I was the cause of his agony. But now I was sordid, ruthless- I had to be cruel in order to be kind.

Heartlessness was the only way I could win this. I brought my right hand up front and placed it on his lower abdomen. Legolas trembled under my touch and I pressed a little harder so that he could feel the warmth of my hand through his tunic. He was cold, I could tell, not from the cool air but from the coldness inside of him brought about by fear. Very slowly and gently I moved my hand across his stomach, left to right, gradually moving it higher up his body. A few times he begged for me to stop, but I ignored his plea.

"Remember who it is that's touching you," I whispered in his ear and I continued the caresses.

I moved my hand in different patterns: lines, waves, circles. If there were any more muscles in his body that were relaxed, then now they tensed and he shivered more and more. Instinctively, I leaned more against him, for that always set him to ease before, but now it only made him worse. As I brushed my hand over his rib cage, he inhaled sharply and I realized that this must be where they damaged him the most. My hand lingered there for a while and I slowly massaged the area, moving towards his side and back again. When I reached his chest I could feel the racing heart beneath my fingers and I went over his arm, up to his shoulder. The hairs on his neck stood up when I came to rest on it. I brought my thumb to the bottom of his ear and traced it up a few times to the delicate point.

Several times I repeated this lengthy process, for what in total might have been around three hours. Unfortunately, Legolas' body did not ease. I thought that after so much time of tension, his body would tire and allow him to relax, but once again I underestimated the ability of elves. Finally, I was finished and I dropped my hand to my side. I did not release my hostage, but I did loosen my left arm to the point where he could have easily escaped if he wanted to, and I would let him. But he did not make an attempt to do so, and even though his body lost none of its tautness, his mind was comforted by my presence. I removed the blindfold- for which he was greatly thankful- and placed my other arm about his shoulders, resting my head on top of his.

"Do you remember that day by the waterfall?" I asked him after a while, the gentleness returning to my voice. Slowly he nodded. "I did not heed your warnings when we climbed upon that ledge, and being as stubborn as I was I jumped. You came in after me, but it was already too late. I hit my side against the rocks and the current pulled me under. You pulled me out of the water and carried me to a safe place where you could look over my wounds. You saved my life. That night, I awoke by a warm fire, my eyes resting on you and you smiled at me as you placed the back of your hand to my brow. It was then that you sang to me."

Legolas closed his eyes at the memory and I thought I saw single tear released from beneath the closed lids.

I sighed at this, before beginning to sing.

"_How beautiful the day and night;_

_the earth is singing in the wind,_

_the voices rise and touch the sky_

_telling all the earth's believing,_

_and in the night sighs fall down,_

_and from the skies sighs fall down on me."_

I looked over Legolas' shoulder, at his face, and noticed that he mouthed the words as I sang them. Tears threatened to escape from his eyes, but he held them back, clearly a skill he had developed well.

_"And when I move away from view_

_my voice is singing in the wind, _

_it rises up to touch the sky _

_telling all that I believe in, _

_and from the night the earth shall sing, _

_and from the night the earth shall sing, _

_and from the night the earth shall sing again."_

tbc... 

Hope you all enjoyed! Please review.

Ella


	4. Chapter 4

**Guess who? Yes, it is I, I have finally finished this. I know that most of you probably don't even remember this fic, as I have not updated in months, but it is not my fault. My computer system failed and all files were lost when I was sentences away from finishing. First the first time my lack of organization that shows when I don't wait to finish a fic before I post, came in handy, for if I had waited then I would have lost the whole story. This way, I at least had it on the web. **

**Anyhoo, I won't bore you with more reasons that don't excuse my laziness and procrastination. Here's the story. **

* * *

If ever before I thought I knew grief- the death of my mother, the choice of Arwen- then I was wrong, for nothing could compare to the woe we now all suffered. A mountain had fallen on top of us, and no one had the strength or the will to lift it. It was not only the company to whom I was not able to explain why I had not helped Gandalf on that ledge, but it was also to myself. I do not know what it was inside of me that kept me planted on the ground like a statue- perhaps fear or shock. But I do know that had I listened to my instincts- had I heeded that desperate call of both my mind and my heart- Gandalf would be standing here with us, grieving, perhaps over me. Oh, what I would not give this moment to be falling down that forsaken pit instead of my dear friend. He was the one that had to live…our guide, our hope. I am nothing. A coward maybe, but nothing more. 

Instinctively, I looked to Legolas for strength and support, momentarily forgetting that I would not find it. He looked back at me with eyes that broke my heart. Such despair was reflected in them, such confusion. Being born of an immortal race, he had never witnessed death. In truth, neither had I. True, we had fought and killed many in our time, but we had not hated the Valar so much for being this cruel. Death was always like a myth. Like a fictional tale parents would often tell their children to scare them into being good. It was never real. Nevertheless, some intangible entity bid me to go on, bid me to swallow my emotions. Everything in me screamed of danger. Gandalf planned to take us to Lothlorien, and that is where I intended to go.

"_Lead them on, Aragorn"_

Gandalf's words echoed through my mind Lead. Several times I repeated the word within my head and every time it seemed foreign. How can one lead a company when he cannot even lead himself?

Sighing and holding back the tears that threatened to leave me, I called to my elven companion.

"Legolas, get them up!" I made a motion indicating that I meant the hobbits.

Boromir instantly protested. "Give them a moment, for pity's sake."

And I knew that he was right. My heart bid me to do nothing but let my companions grieve over our fallen friend. For the hobbits this loss was much more devastating than to any one of us. But my mind would not allow it. We were in danger staying here and I could not bear losing any more of my comrades.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs," I explained to him. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien."

Not waiting to hear him comply, I turned and took a head start in the direction of the woods.

* * *

Our opposing welcome in Lorien was not surprising to me. The elves of the golden wood have always been cautious and very wary with strangers, especially at times like these. Especially when we brought with us not only a dwarf, but also the very source of evil. Nevertheless, I was able to convince Haldir, my old friend, that we needed the protection of the Lord and Lady. I know, though, that the reason he let us through was because of Legolas…because he understood that it was Legolas who needed this place more than any of us.

When we were brought before the lady Galadriel, all, save Legolas and I, looked upon her with awe, not knowing if she was a friend or foe, yet not being able to look away from her stunning and hypnotizing beauty. Even Gimli, who was so critical of the elves, could not deny that Galadriel was the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes upon. As Galadriel spoke to us words of comfort in our dark hour, I knew that she was at the same time saying something to each of my companions within there mind so that none save them could hear her. Boromir at one point looked away with tears in his eyes, and I knew that whatever the Lady said to him penetrated his heart. Legolas, on the other hand, smiled sadly and looked down. I noted his features of despair that were not only from Gandalf's fall. After our night in Moria he acted no different than how he was at the start of the quest, which proved that I was unable to help him. Of course, it seems as though there's no one I can help anymore.

I was watching him sadly when all of a sudden I heard a voice inside my own head.

"Do not grieve so much over him, Aragorn son of Arathorn," she said to me. "He has been

through much. With time he will once again be as you knew him."

"But I only wish that I could do something to help him."

"All you can do is wait and love. Do not blame yourself for the faults of Fate. It is beyond your control."

Now I sat beneath a canopy, sharpening by sword and listening to the lamenting songs of the elves. The grieving melody and words brought tears to my eyes, and looking at Legolas I saw the same reaction.

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked Legolas.

"I have not the heart to tell you," the elf answered, "For me the grief is still too near."

I sighed at his words. He did not deserve this sadness on top of his already existing one. None of my companions did.

A few meters away I heard Sam mumbled something to Merry.

"I bet they don't mention his fireworks," he said, "there should be a verse about them."

He then got up in front of all of us and recited his verse about Gandalf's fireworks:

"The finest rockets ever seen,

They burst in starts of blue and green

And after thunder, silver showers

Come falling, like a rain of flowers"

As innocent and blissful as the poem was, it afflicted me. I remember as a child growing up in Rivendell, Gandalf often visited and brought fireworks along with him. My father was always against them, for he believed that they caused nothing but racket and annoyance. Nevertheless, when the House would retire for the night, Gandalf would kidnap and take me to a nearby clearing where he would delight me with the magic of his fireworks. Every shape and creature that I could possibly imagine he would be able to make. Even when many years have passed and I became of age, he would still entertain me in such a fashion. Legolas too, when he stayed with us in Imladris, would greatly enjoy Gandalf's tricks, despite his old age.

I looked to my elven companion. He stood by a tree beneath which the elanor flower bloomed, his features sullen and weary. He had long since dropped his stone mask, but only I was able to see his true feelings while to the rest of the fellowship they were obscured. Elves had a way of making themselves concealed when wanted to. I could tell that he had the same memories running through his mind as I. I had hoped that in the midst of this spellbound place, he would find that consolation that I was not able to give him, but it seemed as though he saw no difference between Moria and Lorien.

Getting up from my place beneath the canopy, I walked over to him. Why, I cannot say, for I knew that it was not to bring him comfort. In way, I think, it was because of more selfish reasons…because I myself longed for comfort that in happier times only he could bring me. My mind and spirit instinctively sought his in times of woe.

"She spoke to you, did she not?" he asked me, neither turning towards me nor waiting until I fully approached him. "I saw it in your eyes."

"Aye."

Even though I did not see his face, I knew that he had smiled softly. "The lady possesses forces that naught save perhaps Elrond and Mithrandir, could comprehend."

I sighed at this. "Do you remember Imladris? When Gandalf used to come?"

"I remember many things," he replied coldly, so coldly that it made shiver, though the night was warm.

"What did she say to you, Legolas?"

At this he finally turned around to face me. His face he tried to harden, but his own eyes betrayed him. I could have laughed at his ridiculous attempts to hide himself away from me, had it not been for our current sorrow. "She spoke of my father and the corruption of Greenwood. She said to me that even now there is hope left. But I cannot see it. It has been long since we have seen any hope."

For the first time in my life, I could have sworn on the grave of my mother that he actually believed that, and I understood him.

"There is always hope, Legolas," I told him, though not exactly trusting my own words.

This time he laughed. Not a mirthful laugh filled with song as he once did, but a vitriolic and cruel laugh, that somewhat reminded me of the Dark One. "Why do you lie so openly? You, who once was Estel. Hope, you say? There is hope? You expect one to believe you when you don't even believe yourself."

I couldn't even take offend at his bitter words, and was able to turn my head away from him, unable to look him in the eyes. Through everything that has transpired between us since our meeting in Rivendell, one thing had not changed: he still saw through me better that I through him.

After a silence passed between us, he sighed softly.

"What is that you want of me?" he whispered with a hint of desperation in his voice. "Why can't you leave me in peace, Aragorn? At least in honor of the friendship we once shared."

This remark tore my heart. "How can say that, 'once shared'? Legolas, I cannot say that I can possibly fathom all that had happened to you, for there is very little that you revealed to me, and yet I do not ask for more. I, too, have memories to which I wish not to return. Know that I suffer also, not just from losing Mithrandir, but from thinking that I can lose you as well."

My eyes filled with tears that I longed to shed, yet did not dare to, and for a moment I thought that Legolas too felt the same helplessness as I.

"Forgive me, Aragorn," he said gently, "I cannot give you the comfort that you seek. The Lady has asked me to see her tonight. I shall not keep her waiting."

He was about to walk away, when I called out his name and he turned back to me.

"Know that I ask for nothing but your friendship back."

He smiled sadly, and locking eyes with me for the final time, he walked away. My eyes traced him until he disappeared out of sight. And with him, Legolas took away a friendship that I was not able to salvage.

* * *

By the time I had reached the sound of the great horn, I was already too late. Nothing greeted me save for hundreds of corpses, among which I found my companion. We had only seconds to exchange a few last words before he joined the spirits of his noble forefathers. Boromir revealed to me that he had tried to take the Ring. He said that he was weak…that he failed us. But nay! twas not Boromir who betrayed Arda, but I. 

"Be at peace, son of Gondor," I whispered to him, kissing his brow when the focus disappeared from his eyes.

I got up from beside the now empty carcass that lay at my feet. My body stood there frozen, like it did at Kazad-dum when Gandalf fell. Another dead because of my folly…my cowardice. Another brave light extinguished because I was not strong enough to keep it lit. Was this the emptiness Isildur felt when Elendil fell? Nay, I decided, for despite his despair he still found strength within himself to lift the broken sword and defeat Sauron, whereas I did not even have the strength to turn away from this corpse. I heard footsteps behind me, indicating that my companions- or what was left of them- had found me. I wanted to turn and look at them, but couldn't. There was nothing I could do. My body and my mind were disconnected and I did not even care. Frodo and Sam have left us, and Merry and Pippin were taken by Uruk-hai. The fellowship is broken and all because of me…because Fate made a mistake and chose the wrong man to save the people of Middle-earth.

Legolas came to my side. Wordlessly, he placed a firm, yet gentle, hand on my shoulder and in that moment I understood that I could not longer contain my grief. Turning around to him, I buried my head in his broad shoulder and let it absorb my sorrow, not caring if he recoiled or shot me down on the spot. But to my surprise he did neither, nay! he did not even flinch. Instead he moved closer to me so that I may fully lean on him as his body supported mine, and with gentle kindness he wrapped his arms around me. It was in this moment that I finally found solace- liberation from all my grief and woe. In the arms of my dearest friend I felt the weight of the world lifted from my heart; the coldness of my body replaced with a comforting warmth. My form was weak and lifeless, but he willingly let me take in his strength.

I do not know how long we stood as such. My tears have long since dried, and Legolas slowly pulled away, still keeping his arms on my shoulders.

"Come," he said softly, "you have taken wounds and I must see if I can heal them."

I looked up to meet his gaze. "You already have, mellon nin. All of them."

He smiled such a caring smile as he looked at me with gentle, yet grieving eyes; eyes that were filled with love and compassion. In them I saw hope. I saw the young and wise elf I have known for over fifty years. I saw Legolas, my friend…Legolas, my brother.

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THE END

A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this. Forgive me for the lack of canon, but canon is not what this story was about. Please r/r. Reviews mean a lot to me.

Ella


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